dreamembering (you)
by Scripturiens
Summary: "But you, you'll love me at once, won't you?" [inukik]


**Disclaimer:** InuYasha and all related characters do not belong to me.

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 **Notes** : Anonymous on Tumblr requested: flower, moon, arrow, dream, hand holding.

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They call her _Jie Geng_ , in the East.

He has heard the stories, how the children and the women loved her, how the men wept for her when she was gone. She has taken several names since then, each lasting less than the last; her image distorted among stories that claim she can heal the sick and raise the dead from their sleep. It's how he came to know she was alive, and it guts him, how much it reminds him of how he came to know her in another life.

They called her _Miko_ then, though few remain today that still call her thus. This village is no different than the one that birthed her, and before he knows it a day and afternoon has passed, and he remains perched on that sturdy branch, too afraid or too stupid to dare move away.

Another day passes and he knows how dangerous this has become, how much he's being missed elsewhere, but he never knew how to walk away from her before and it is too late, he reckons, to start now.

On the third day, she appears to him as the sun sinks slowly behind the mountains. He is quiet, barely daring to breathe around her as if he fears the sound alone will take her away from him. For a long time she gathers the clothes that have been left out in the sun to dry, tattered linens and faded garments the children and women have helped her wash. The basket is heavy and she sets it on the ground, dismissing the little ones to their dinner and finally ( _Why has it taken you so long, Kikyō?_ ), she acknowledges him.

"Walk with me, hanyō."

Her voice is colder than he remembers, and perhaps he has longed to hear her call him _come, my heart_ but he would've settled for his name, _Inuyasha_.

 _Anything_ , he thinks, but this cold indifference.

He lands softly, trying not to startle her. But her back is already turned to him ( _again?_ ) and she is walking towards the very edge of the wood. He wants to stop her, tell her _it's so dark outside_ , but he follows her quietly and if not by sight, then by scent, by instinct alone he finds her and all the flowers that have been woven into her hair.

"You've been watching this village for days. Are you waiting, to attack us?"

The grass sways in the dark.

"No."

"Then what is it, you want?"

 _You, you, it's always been you_.

"It doesn't matter," he mutters instead. "Nothing you can give me, priestess."

The moon hangs low, giant, bright and bathing her in cool silvery light and she looks like the Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto that was, but softer, more beautiful than the god had ever been. The blades beneath her feet bend humbly and she sits, and he dares not sit close to her.

"You ache, hanyō," she says, and her voice is as if all the bluebells in the world suddenly knew how to sing. "Why do you come here, with all this sorrow?"

"I'm sorry," he says, and he means it, too. "I never meant to make you sad ... _Miko_."

Inuyasha grinds his teeth because he can't touch her, he can't hold her, can't even say her name without having his heart break all over again. He never wanted all this space between them, never wanted her to look at him and _not know him_. One afternoon, with the dying sun behind him, he had held her hand and he had known then as he knew still, that he never wanted to let go. There is a sharp ring and he shakes his head, breathless and senseless all at once, just the way he felt when her arrow struck him through, so many moons ago.

 _It's been so long, Kikyō._

"It's you, isn't it?" she asks then, black hair spilling endlessly down her back.

The ringing in his ear grows louder, dizzying him.

"Who?"

"The man who loved me, once upon a dream. Is that why you're here?"

He doesn't answer, instead asks:

"You remember me?"

"I know you're the man I killed," she says, and her voice is no longer soft. "And I know you're the man I died for."

"You did not kill me." Inuyasha's words are bitter and foul, like something poisonous brewing from the bottom of his belly. "For so long, I wished you had."

"Won't you say my name?"

Her eyes are closed and Inuyasha is afraid this time she's dead for good.

"In my dreams, you always say my name. You say—,"

" _—Kikyō,"_

Her eyes flutter open.

 _"_ _—and then, I die."_

He's holding her now, so tightly that she might break in his arms _(and she just might, she just might)_ , and the flowers in her hair have fallen, crushed beneath his bare feet. His heart is racing, thundering against his chest, against her back, beating life back into her in a way they both know cannot last.

"Not tonight," he murmurs against the pale skin of her neck, tasting salt.

"Not tonight," she agrees.

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 _"What will happen, if it fails?"_

 _"Then I won't remember you, won't know I ever loved you."_

 _"I won't let you do it."_

 _"But you'll love me at once, won't you? Just like you did, once upon a dream?"_


End file.
